


I Have A Penis

by nickahontas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M, Genderswap, One Shot, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-16 03:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16077572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickahontas/pseuds/nickahontas
Summary: Inspo struck and I wrote this one shot of a college girl waking up in Rhaegar's body.





	I Have A Penis

I slowly ebb to consciousness and sigh contentedly at the pure bliss that surrounds me. The bed is large and soft. The room is warm. Most importantly, it’s quiet. I love college. I’ve always loved learning and meeting new people, so higher education has been kind to me. It’s a hell of a lot of fun too, but holy pancakes did I miss being home. 

I share a two bedroom apartment with four girls. We each have single beds. I’m pretty short and it’s better than the dorm from last year. Nobody wants to share a bathroom with so many people and my mattress was stamped with the local jail’s name. Not very luxurious.

I stretch as far as my arms and legs would go. Each one of my limbs stays on the bed. Nice. 

“Your grace?”

Wat. 

I open my eyes. This isn’t home. The room is super old, like made out of stone old, but it’s classy and clean. Grey morning light filters in through a round window. Trees stretch on as far as I can see. It’s beautiful, but it’s totally not suburbia.

The old man standing over me is not from home or anywhere else I’ve been. He’s in grey robes and a weird necklace that looks vaguely familiar. His nose hair is frighteningly thick. It makes me rub my own nose.

“Your grace, are you well?”

_This is such a weird dream._ I sit up and stretch and groan. I need to do yoga. How weird can dream yoga get? That’s what I’ll do.  I stand and look down at the old man. So tall! So cool!

“My Prince did it-“

“Wait. What?!” 

I spin, the room tottering as I do. There’s a dirty mirror on a desk against the wall. I lean down to peer into it and almost scream. 

I’m a dude! Holy shit, I’m a dude. I’m a fucking hot dude too. I’m usually not into blondes, but the platinum hair suits my coloring. My nose is straight except for a bump from where it’s been broken, making me all bamf like. My lips are full and the grey light casts a purple tint to my eyes. 

An important realization hits me like a ton of bricks. 

I straighten and look down. There’s an unimpeded view of my torso. No boobs! Sweet! I’m lean, but ripped and a trail of blonde hair leads down from my navel to...

“I have a penis!”

A strangled noise sounds from behind me. 

I spin wildly, MY PENIS softly slapping against my thigh. I’m torn between watching my back while I’m naked and staring at MY FUCKING PENIS.

Another man stares back at me with his brows nearly into his dark hair. He’s even hotter than I am. More ruggedly handsome whereareas I’m more of an Adonis. He’s got one of those sexy Roman noses and dark blue eyes and lips that are sinfully plump. I want to bite them.

“I have a penis,” I say with a different sort of realization. 

This is the best dream ever.

His amusement settles into fear. He backs away as I stalk forward. 

“Rhaegar!” He almost pleads. 

I stop short. Rhaegar? I know that name....

I look back at the old man. That weird necklace! It’s really called a chain and it’s made of different kind of metals. He’s a maester! And I’m a prince! Prince Rhaegar Targaryen! LAME. Total idiot pansy, but apparently a pretty idiot pansy. Weird. I’ve had a couple game of thrones dreams before when I read the books before bed or had a marathon with the roomies. I was always in love with Robb Stark or Khal Drogo or generally fucking shit up. I’ve never dreamed as a character. Especially not Rhaegar Targaryen. So lame! Why couldn’t I be an actual dragon and fuck shit up?

“Well, at least we know it worked,” another man says. 

He’s not divinely attractive like we are, but he’s still good looking. He’s more of an average dude. More of a long-term thing than a forty-eight hour sexathon. 

“What worked?” I ask curiously. 

“The ritual. In the godswood,” the gorgeous one says. 

“Is this Winterfell, then? I thought it would be super cold.”

He tells me where we are but I’m not listening. I should know his name. I mean, I’m dreaming him up, so I have to know his name. This isn’t King’s Landing and he’s traipsing around with Rhaegar Targaryen.....

“You’re Arthur Dayne. The Sword in the Morning.”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“OhmigodisthatDawn?!” I practically squeal. He isn’t in the stupid Kingsguard armor. He’s dressed pretty casually, or as casually as a ren fair dude dresses. 

He cocks a brow. “Yes.”

“Holy shit! Can I see it?”

He rolls his eyes but unsheathes the greatsword. It’s absolutely beautiful. It seems to glow even with its wielder’s back to the window. It’s almost as long as my cock. The blade is perfectly balanced and lighter than Valyrian ste- Wait. How do I know that?

“Then who are you?” I ask the other guy. 

“Ser Oswell Whent.”

I mutter his name under my breath. It sounds so familiar. I start pacing, doing everything to avoid getting distracted by MY FUCKING PENIS, while trying to remember everything I know about Arthur Dayne. His sister is named Ashara. He’s from Dorne. He was at the Tower of Joy.....

“No!” I rush forward and shake Arthur by the shoulders. “This isn’t the Tower of Joy is it?!”

“The what?!” 

“Dorne? Are we in Dorne?”

“No. We’re in the Riverlands. Are you well?”

I wave it off. “Yeah totes. I thought this was going to be a nightmare for a second.”

All three men look at each other, communicating wordlessly. I wiggle my hips while they figure whatever it is out. It’s a pretty nice cock, if I say so myself. A bit pink for my taste. I’ve never been with a guy so pale before. Maybe I should watch more porn. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, put a robe on him!” Ozzy demands. 

I scoff, but take the leather pants and crude underwear the maester hands me. The tighty whities are surprisingly soft. I’d wager that’s a prince thing though. “Please. If you had a dream that you were a girl, the first thing you would do is play with your tits.”

I have to wiggle a bit to get them on. I twist to peer over my shoulder. Damn, Rhaegar’s got a nice butt. I start lacing the tie of my leggings, trying to get my penis settled without touching it. It’s one thing to do the helicopter, but it’s another thing to get a boner.  When I’m covered, yet still not entirely not entirely comfortable, I look up at the men. I sigh contentedly at the image the two of them make. 

“Such a good dream,” I say. My pants get a bit tight. 

Arthur makes a face but Ozzy stomps to glower at me. 

He’s going to kiss me. 

I lick my lips, lean forward, and pain erupts in my side. Wheezing, I double over and try not to gag. That really fucking hurt. I massage my ribs while I pout up at him.

“This is not a dream.” He spits. 

His fist collides with my stomach. I retch this time, sure my guts are being forced out of my mouth. 

“This is an insult to the creature that sacrificed itself for you.”

“Oswell-“

“IT WAS THE LAST OF IT’S KIND!”

He punches my gut again. A stream of slobber droops on to the stone floor. I decide to give up and follow it. 

“Oswell, we do not beat women!”

I laugh and peer up through the silver hair. Am I a man or a woman? I suppose a man. I guess I would identify as a man if this were real life. And it’s totally a lie, anyway. The Kingsguard beat the shit out of Sansa Stark.

“Who?”

It’s Arthur. His pretty lips are startlingly close to mine. Catching where my daze drops, he sits back with his arm on his knee. 

“Who is Sansa Stark?”

“Oh, you know. Ned’s daughter.”

“My brothers would never beat a child.”

“Your brothers are dead, dude.”

His face pales. At another cough, the maester hands me a goblet of water. 

“Look, girl,” Ozzy begins. He sits beside his sworn brother. “Would you have felt that in a dream?”

“No,” I mutter, staring down into the cup. 

“Rhaegar convinced us to come to the Isle of Faces,” Arthur begins. “If I had known...He did blood magic. The child said his soul would belong to the trees but we didn’t understand, not truthfully. Rhaegar said he was summoning a weapon and his body would be a conduit. We thought.....”

“It would be a dragon,” I guess. 

“Yes.”

“Rich.”

“Pardon?”

I wave it off. “So, blood magic? What’s the Isle of Faces? And what about a child?”

“It is a place of great power. There are no less than a dozen weirwoods in a circle-“

“God’s Eye!” I exclaim, remembering. Then I frown. I shouldn’t remember that. Just as I shouldn’t remember how Dawn feels in my grip.

“Yes,” Oswell confirms. “There were two children of the forest waiting. Said they saw us coming. One of them slit its own throat while the other spilled some of Rhaegar’s blood. An hour later, we were on our way to the keep with the Prince.”

“Why?”

“A prophecy. We worried he was going mad. But with you here....”

“You realized he wasn't his father and magic still exi- _Oh._ "

"Oh?!" 

"Oh. I know why I'm here."

Ozzy gives me a face that conveys that he'll beat the spit out of me again if I don't continue. Why couldn't this have just been a sex dream? 

"Uhhhhhhhh well.....what do you know about the White Walkers?"

 


End file.
